Chapter 41
CHAPTER
FORTY-ONE
JULIE
The next day passes in a blur of waiting and planning.
I spent the morning researching divorce attorneys.
I found two who specialize in high-net-worth divorces and complex financial situations.
I call them both from the burner phone, leaving messages with their secretaries.
I use a fake name and give the burner number as my contact information.
Then I call Gregory Hale's office. Dean's attorney.
The one who called me after the wedding to tell me about the financial trap.
The one who made it clear that Dean's "gift" couldn't be spoken of until the details of Dean's trust were revealed.
I need to tell him I'm leaving my husband. And at some point, I’m going to need to tell Jamie the truth about everything. I'm just working up the courage.
The receptionist answers on the second ring. "Hale & Associates, how may I direct your call?"
"I need to speak with Gregory Hale," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's urgent."
"May I ask what this is regarding?"
"It's about the Stevens estate. I'm Julie Stevens. Dean Stevens' daughter-in-law."
There's a pause. "One moment, please."
I'm put on hold. Elevator music plays in my ear. I pace the length of the living room, my heart pounding.
Finally, a woman's voice comes on the line. "Mrs. Stevens, this is Margaret, Mr. Hale's secretary. I'm afraid Mr. Hale is unavailable. Can I take a message?"
"Yes. Please tell him I need to speak with him as soon as possible. It's important."
Another pause. "I see. And how can he reach you?"
"He can't call my cell phone," I say quickly. "I'll give you an alternate number. It's very important that he use this number and only this number. He cannot, under any circumstances, call my home or the cell phone number he used to contact me after my father-in-law died."
I rattle off the burner phone number. Margaret repeats it back to me, and I confirm it's correct.
"I'll make sure he gets the message," she says. "Is there anything else?"
"Just... Please tell him it's urgent. I need to speak with him sooner rather than later."
"I'll let him know. Have a good day, Mrs. Stevens."
She hangs up. I stare at the burner phone in my hand, wondering if I just made a huge mistake.
"You okay?" Jamie asks from the kitchen doorway.
"I don't know. I just called Dean's attorney."
"And?"
"And he's out of the office. His secretary took a message." I set the phone down on the coffee table. "I don't know if he'll call back. I don't even know if I should have called in the first place."
"You should have," Jamie says firmly. "You need to know what you're dealing with. And if anyone can tell you, it's him."
We spend the rest of the day trying to distract ourselves.
We watch movies—stupid comedies that none of us really pay attention to.
We order burritos for lunch. We play cards.
We talk about everything except what's happening right now, what Marcus might be seeing, what Asher might be doing.
It's surreal. Like we're on vacation, except we're not. I’m hiding from my husband, waiting for proof that my marriage is a lie.
The damn burner phone doesn't ring. By the time evening comes, I'm crawling out of my skin with anxiety.
"He's not going to call today," I say, staring at the phone.
"He might not have anything to report yet," Ryan says. "Give it time."
"I don't want to give it time. I want to know."
Jamie squeezes my shoulder. "I know. But we have to be patient."
I hate being patient. I've been patient for months. I've been patient while Asher pulled away, while Devon moved in, while my marriage crumbled around me. I'm done being patient. But I don't have a choice. So we wait.
The next day is worse. I wake up to gray skies and drizzle—typical Seattle weather.
Jamie makes pancakes. Ryan brews more coffee.
We sit around the dining table and eat breakfast like we're a normal family, like this is a normal weekend.
But it's not normal. Nothing about this is.
The burner phone sits in the middle of the table, silent.
"Maybe we should go out," Jamie suggests. "Get some air. We've been cooped up in here for two days."
"I don't want to miss his call," I say.
"You won't. You'll have the phone with you."
She's right. But the thought of leaving the house, of being out in the world while Marcus is following Asher, feels wrong somehow. Like I need to be here, waiting, ready.
"I'll stay," I say. "You guys can go if you want."
"We're not leaving you alone," Ryan says immediately.
So we stay. We watch more movies. We play more cards. We order pizza because none of us feel like cooking. The day stretches on, endless and suffocating. I check the burner phone every ten minutes even though I know it hasn't rung.
I imagine Marcus out there, following Asher, watching him. I imagine what he might be seeing. Asher at work. Asher getting coffee. Asher doing normal, mundane things. Or maybe not normal things. Maybe things I don't want to imagine. By sundown, I'm ready to climb the walls.
"This is torture," I say, pacing the living room. "Why hasn't he called? What if something went wrong? What if Asher spotted him?"
"He didn't spot him," Ryan says calmly. "Marcus is a professional. He knows what he's doing."
"Then why hasn't he called?"
"Because maybe there's nothing to report yet. Or maybe he's waiting until he has something concrete."
I want to scream. I want to throw the phone across the room. I want to drive to my house and confront Asher myself, demand the truth, make him look me in the eye and tell me what he's been doing.
But I don't. I just keep pacing. And then just after nine thirty, the burner phone rings. I freeze. Jamie and Ryan both look up. For a second, none of us move. Then I lunge for the phone and answer it. "Hello?"
“Julie, it's Marcus." His voice is calm, professional. "I have an update for you."
My heart is pounding so hard I can barely hear him. "What is it? What did you find?"
"Your husband and his stepsister went on a date tonight. Canlis restaurant."
My stomach clenches. Canlis. The same restaurant where I met Asher's father. That sick fuck.
"Okay," I say, my voice shaking. "And?"
"They were seated in a private dining room. I wasn't able to get inside, but I have exterior shots of them arriving and leaving. And I have photos from the parking lot."
"What kind of photos?"
There's a pause. "I'm sending them to you now. Check your email."
Ryan's already opening his laptop. I give him the email address Marcus set up for me—another layer of security, another way to keep this hidden. The photos load. And my entire world tilts.
The first photo shows Asher and Devon walking into the restaurant.
She's wearing a black dress that I don't recognize, and heels that I do recognize because they're mine.
My black Louboutins, the ones I wore to our anniversary dinner.
She's wearing my shoes. She's also wearing my coat. What the fuck?
The second photo is from the parking lot. They're walking to Asher's car. He has his arm around her waist. She's leaning into him. They look like a couple. They look like they're in love.
And in the third photo, the one that makes my stomach drop, Asher’s helping her into his car, and I can see his left hand clearly. He's not wearing his wedding ring.
"Julie?" Jamie's voice sounds far away. "Julie, are you okay?"
I can't answer. I'm staring at the photos, at the evidence of everything I suspected but he told me I was imagining. My husband is having an affair with his stepsister. My life is officially a Jerry Springer episode.
“Julie?” Marcus's voice comes through the phone. "Are you still there?"
"I'm here," I manage.
"I followed them back to your house and they went inside. Do you want me to continue surveillance?"
I look at Ryan and Jamie. They're both watching me, waiting. "Yes," I say. "But we're coming there."
"I'm sorry?"
"We're coming to the house. I need to see this for myself."
“Julie, I don't think that's a good idea?—"
"I don't care what you think." My voice is steady now, cold and clear. "We'll be there in thirty minutes."
There's a long pause. Then Marcus sighs. "I’ll be here. But before we hang up, there’s something else I found out today that you need to know before you go storming in there.”
I listen carefully as he tells me something I never knew. Something I can use. When I hang up, Jamie and Ryan are staring at me. "We're going to the house," I say. "Right now. I need to see what they do. I need to see them together and blow this up once and for all."
"Julie—" Jamie starts.
"No. I'm done waiting. I'm done hiding. I'm done letting him do this to me." I grab my jacket from the back of the chair. “This ends now. You don't have to come with me. But I'm going."
Ryan stands. "Then we're all going."
Jamie nods. "Let's go."
We pile into Ryan's truck. He drives fast, weaving through traffic, and I sit in the passenger seat with my hands clenched in my lap, thinking of those photos.
Devon wearing my shoes. Asher not wearing his ring. They’re both sick.
I think about the therapy session where Dr. Reeves blamed me for everything.
I think about the anniversary dinner where Asher left me alone.
I think about all the nights he spent in Devon's room, all the times he chose her over me, all the ways he made me feel like I was crazy for noticing what was right in front of my face.
Fuck him.
I wasn't crazy. I was right.